


they think me macbeth

by patentpending



Series: 13 Days of no-longer Halloween [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Pride reigns.  Long live the king.  Dark! sides AU.





	they think me macbeth

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: mental torture, brief violence, blood, toxic relationships, mention of sex, swearing.

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Pride could hear it, just at the edge of his perception - a steady, slow _tick-tock, tick-tock,_ licking at his consciousness. His gaze swept the control room, the feeds of the host’s visuals, the dancing lights of synapses firing in the distance, his own pedestal and throne, but he couldn’t see a clock.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock,_ it taunted him, slowly tapping at his head. Time, time, always something about time - where it came from, what it once was, what was happening within it.

_Tick-tock, tick tock._

He growled audibly, lips curling into a snarl.

“Somebody’s being a bitter bean,” a voice chirped. “What, did his highness not get his royal _cheery_-o’s this morning?”

The darkness at the edge of the control room warped, condensing into the shape of a man. “Honestly, kiddo, I don’t get why you gotta be all gloomy all the time.” A pair of brilliant red eyes blinked into existence, glistening like two drops of fresh blood against the darkness. “It can really **piss** some people off.”

Pride tensed imperceptibly. “Wrath,” he greeted, voice the sharpened edge of a dagger under velvet. “How nice to see you.”

“Oh, please don’t.” Wrath giggled. “Lying might summon _him_, and he’s no fun at all! Can you believe he still wants to put Thomas back in charge? Goodness gracious, sometimes I just wanna rip out his spine! Oh, but I got ahead of myself again.” Wrath stepped forward and offered a mocking bow. “How kind of you to receive me, my liege.”

“No one invited you,” Pride snarled.

“Don’t you know, Kiddo?” Wrath smiled, eyes shining sickly. “Those are the best types of parties.”

“This isn’t a party, Wrath,” he snapped. “It’s a kingdom. _My_ kingdom.”

Wrath just giggled. “The green-eyed monster doesn’t suit you. You’re Pride, not Jealousy.”

“And you’re wasting my valuable time.” Pride put a hand on the jeweled hilt of his sword, eyes glittering darkly. “You’ll leave if you know what’s best for you.”

“Careful there, kiddo,” Wrath clucked disapprovingly. “It goeth before the fall.” The golden throne shone in the dull lights of the mind, and Pride’s fingers tightened on the armrest. “And don’t you have a long way to fall?”

Pride’s lip curled. “If I slipped, I’d soar.”

“Where are your wings, Icarus?” Another voice interrupted. “As far as I can perceive, the king’s back lies bare.”

Ruthless materialized from the shadows, cracked glasses fragmenting the light in the room until lines of black and white cut through to their very bones. Wrath took his hand. One of them was never far from the other.

Pride smirked. “Why didn’t you tell me this was a double date? I feel like such a third wheel.”

Wrath stilled, and Ruthless’s black eyes narrowed.

“Where are you, darling?” Pride called, the nickname falling from his lips like a cruel joke. It took less than a second for Paranoia to appear at his side, shoulders hunched and shadows stamped under his jaded eyes.

Unconsciously, Wrath shifted forward, sheltering Ruthless behind him.

Pride regarded Paranoia, as fondly as he was capable. Every performer needs an audience, after all. 

He reached down and caressed his face with the back of his hand, jeweled rings scratching red lines into Paranoia’s cheek. “Hello, my love.”

Paranoia grimaced, eyes eternally downcast to avoid meeting Pride’s gaze.

“Now, dear friends” - Pride smiled, fangs glittering in the low light - “what is it you need?”

“We haven’t been given the time we were promised this month,” Ruthless said lowly, never taking his dark eyes off of Paranoia. “We deserve our share.”

“It’s really starting to bug me!” Wrath’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Gosh, kiddo, you have no idea how frustrated I am.”

Pride smiled. “But what do we say?”

Ruthless grit his teeth. “We could kill you. Right now.”

Pride shook his head. “You’re so cute.” He held out a hand, and Paranoia’s own automatically shot out, helping his king down from the throne. “You know that’s not going to happen. Who’d take care of Thomas then?” He stood before them, tilting his head so his crown shone just right.

“Is this taking care of him?” Wrath snapped, eyes glowing with rage. “Making him primp and preen and lie around like a puppet until your vain ass decides to play?”

Pride stilled, and Ruthless grabbed Wrath’s hand, pulling him back. “Wrath, you need to apologize _right no-”_

“I will not!” He snarled. “You’re supposed to be the ruthless one, why the hell aren’t you standing up for yourself?”

“Wrath, love, please-”

“No, no,” Pride interrupted. “By all means, let him speak. What is it you want to do, Wrath? Have Thomas scream and punch the walls until his knuckles turn bloody? Get into a fight in one of those dingy alleyways you’re so fond of?” His fierce gaze turned to Ruthless. “Oh, and Ruthless, I know what you want - to climb the ladder! Make him lie and scheme and cheat and fuck our way right to the top. Isn’t it just so _yummy_ not to have any remorse?” His smile turned sharp. “Luckily, I’m a bit lacking in that department too.”

The fever seeped out of Wrath, leaving him cold and shaking. “Paranoia,” he addressed the silent side. “You don’t have to do this.”

Pride squeezed the side in question’s hand and turned to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s up to you, darling.”

A small, bitter smile flickered on Paranoia’s lips. It never was up to him.

“Why?” Ruthless demanded, clutching Wrath’s hand like a lifeline. “He doesn’t even love you. He can’t.”

“He loves me as best he can,” Paranoia said simply, then lifted his hand.

They dropped like flies, collapsing to the ground and clutching at their heads as their worst thoughts invaded. Wrath screamed, a feral, guttural howl, tearing at his hair and pounding his fists against the floor. _ Nothing, coward, never good enough, bad, he doesn’t love you, monster._ Ruthless simply curled up on his side, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his cheeks. _Failure, disappointment, monster, nothing, robot, he hates you._

Pride gasped in delight, clasping his hands before him in excitement. “Darling, you’re marvelous.” He flung his arms around Paranoia, holding him close. “Thank you.” 

Over the other side’s shoulder, a pair of mismatched eyes gazed out of the shadows, and Pride smirked at them until they faded away.

He pulled back and kissed Paranoia to the music of the screams. “I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

Paranoia immediately dropped the delusions, and the two sides lied there, pale and trembling.

“There we go,” Pride purred, draping his arms across Paranoia’s shoulders and gazing at the others with half-lidded, bored eyes. “Now… what do we say?”

It was Ruthless who managed it first, the three words forcing themselves out between his lips. “Please, your highness.”

Wrath held out a moment longer, glaring up at Pride with bright red eyes so full of hate Pride was almost impressed. “Please.” His lip curled. “Your highness.”

“Well, there we go!” Pride exclaimed, baring his teeth in a smile. “Is that so unreasonable? Come back tomorrow, and you can play all you want.” He dragged his gaze over their trembling frames. “You might want to clean up a bit.”

Wrath dragged himself to his feet, reaching down and pulling Ruthless up. They slunk into the shadows and disappeared.

“Was that necessary?” Paranoia asked, soft enough that Pride could ignore it if he wanted.

“I think it was.” Pride raised his hand expectantly, and Paranoia took it, helping him climb the polished stairs back to his throne.

“Very well then,” was his only response. Pride settled comfortably on his throne, gazing out at the lights and nerves of Thomas’s mind. _His_ mind.

“Anything else?” Paranoia asked, fidgeting.

“It’s all perfect, darling.”

He nodded, briefly, and padded towards the edge of the control room.

“I love you!” Pride called after him, but he had already slipped into the shadows.

“I thought Patton told you to stop lying. I always crop up eventually.”

The snake was back. Pride didn’t even have to turn around to tell. Something in the air shifted when he was near, becoming stiller, more cautious. He was first and foremost self-preservation, after all.

“Who is Patton?” Pride asked, boredly examining his nails.

“Wrath, if you prefer.”

“Did I ask for you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To do my job.”

Pride laughed cruelly. “What, to slither in the shadows and hide from the light like the snake you are?”

“No,” Deceit said softly, “to lie.”

Pride stilled, dark eyes narrowing as ruby-red lips curled into a sneer. “What?”

He trembled, shaking beneath that ridiculous bowler hat. “Let me tell you a lie,” he repeated. “If you won’t listen to the truth.”

Pride scoffed. “I need nothing from you, snake.”

“It is nothing,” he said. “Less than nothing. Nothing more than a lie.”

Stillness reigned for a moment, Deceit fighting to stay standing as Pride pinned him in place with that glare. His red tipped fingers drummed in consideration against the ornate armrest of his throne. “Fine.” He leaned back in his throne, crossing one leg over the other with a smirk. “Amuse me.”

Deceit swallowed, drawing himself up, and he began to speak. “There was once a moral, logical man with boundless creativity and anxiety in spades.” A smile lifted the corner of his lips. “He also had an unfortunate habit of lying. Now, this man usually managed to balance all the aspects of himself, but, sometimes, his creativity got the best of him. It was convinced that it knew best, and, when the others didn’t listen, it grew angry. It began to question things, to wonder why the man was the one who was in charge. What made him better than his sides?”

Pride’s jaw clenched. “I don’t think I like this story.”

“Just a lie,” Deceit repeated. “It’s just a lie.” He took a deep breath, pointedly ignoring the way Pride’s fingers drummed against his sword. “The creativity became disillusioned and bitter, its pri- hubris forming from the dejection. It grew stronger and stronger.”

“Stop,” Pride said, standing up.

“Its control over the man’s mind expanded slowly, so slowly none of the other aspects even noticed, right up until they day they forgot their names, their functions. They became warped, twisted versions of themselves. Only the one that was dark from the beginning was spared.”

“I told you to stop!” Pride snarled, stalking forward until he was toe-to-toe with the other side.

“The creativity’s hubris grew and grew,” Deceit said, words blurring in his rush to get them all out. “Until the creativity was absolutely convinced that his was the only way. That Thomas didn’t deserve to be in charge-”

Pride reeled back and struck Deceit across the face, jeweled rings shearing off scales and flesh. Deceit fell backwards, landing hard on the floor.

Pride stood there, chest heaving, hand wet with blood. “Out, damned spot,” he muttered before he could wonder how he knew the words.

Deceit dragged himself to the edge of the darkness, propping himself up against the solid shadows. “You really don’t want to know?” He bitterly laughed, hacking up a clot of blood and spitting it at Pride’s feet. “How you were once someone so much better?”

Pride looked down at him cooly. “There is no one better.”

“You were named for an empire.” Deceit’s words came out in a hissing rasp, pain and desperation slurring syllables together. “We called you Roman.”

Roman. He could suddenly hear the name, echoing in his head a million times over - said in anger and fondness and frustration and excitement and love and love and love. He could feel the weight of the white suit on his shoulders, a sword at his side to defend, not attack. 

The weight of being the least favorite. Of being ignored. Of being so much **less**. Why be a prince when you could be a king?

Pride snarled. “Why do I need the name of an empire? I’ve built one myself.” 

He turned from Deceit, stalking off with the sharp tapping of boots against the floor. “Leave me.” His footsteps clicked against the steps, and he settled into his cold, empty throne. Deceit was gone.

It was silent as the grave, and he realized that the clock had stopped ticking. He smiled coldly and gazed over his kingdom of mind and matter.

Pride reigned.

Long live the king.

**Author's Note:**

> lol remember before Remus was introduced and we all thought Dark Roman was going to be cool and suave?


End file.
